


between the click of the light and the start of a dream

by reversetheuniverse



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reversetheuniverse/pseuds/reversetheuniverse
Summary: As he continues to fix it, Riley observes the subtle way in which the light from the moon above allows her to see the freckles delicately painted upon his cheeks. She’d like to trace the pattern, she thinks, count each one and admire how she could learn just as much astronomy from his skin as the sky above them, but then she silently puts that thought to rest. Her job isn’t to ogle Farkle, it’s to get this project done and over with so she can continue to pretend that her feelings for him are nonexistent.





	1. Chapter 1

He was her Romeo; she was his Juliet.

Tragic, she _knows_.

They should’ve worked together. It was an equation that made sense when she repeated it over and over again inside her head—Riley plus Lucas equals love, love, _love_. But then, when reflected in real life, their relationship was never that simple.

They were _too similar_. Lucas’s little habits that she liked eventually shifted into annoying traits, irking her to no end. Together, they fought and bickered and bickered, until the only solution to their sad equation was to breakup.

So now, two weeks later, she sits alone on a couch at a party, red solo cup in hand, watching the people all around her move by in a blur. She’s upset over the breakup, sure. But even she has to admit that they were never meant to be romantic, and she hates herself for convincing herself otherwise.

No more men on pedestals for her; she’ll drink to that.

“No, Smackle, what I’m simply saying is that you _can’t_ quantify—” Science’s “it” couple enters the room, debating whatever topic pops into their minds as per usual. Farkle’s in heated debate with his girlfriend, but then he catches sight of Riley alone on the couch, cup of spiked punch in hand, and he melts. He’s always been a sucker for her, but most importantly, he’s her friend and he’s there for her, always and forever.

“You were saying? I’d like to say I won at this point, but really you’re not giving me much of a fight here, Minkus,” Smackle prods at him, but he nudges her with his shoulder instead.

“I’m gonna go sit with Riley for a bit. Is that okay?” Her eyebrows scrunch together as Riley watches her glance over to the couch.

“You go ahead and go. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen, getting some snacks.” Farkle watches Isadora disappear before plopping down on the couch beside Riley, a sympathetic look on his face.

“You alright?” he asks her. She hates it—she doesn’t want his pity, but at the same time, she doesn’t want to be alone. It’s a confusing mess of emotions; why does she have to deal with it?

“I guess. Depends on your definition of ‘alright’,” she says, forcing a laugh. He doesn’t join in, just watches her with concern, his knee knocking into hers.

“C’mon, Riley. Talk to me—I know it’s been a couple weeks.” She really doesn’t want to, but his azure eyes gaze at her intensely, and she cracks under the pressure.

“It’s just . . . I dunno . . . upsetting? I know that sounds dumb, of course it’s upsetting, but it’s not upsetting that we don’t love each other. It’s just upsetting to me that I don’t have love right, and that something that I once thought was so perfect crumbled beneath me, shattering my ideas and how I thought the world was. Love should be a clear scientific formula, shouldn’t it?”

“Quit getting inside my head, Riley Matthews,” he chuckles, a grin splaying across his face. “If it was, don’t you think I’d have it down by now? There may be a chemical formula to explain it, but there’s no real way to explain love; it’s just something you find on your own.” Her brown eyes snap up to his, focusing entirely on him.

“Have you found love, Farkle?” It’s a test. He knows it’s a test, but it makes him uncomfortable to even _consider_ an answer at the moment.

“Uhm,” he squirms in his seat, leg bobbing up and down, “I think so?” Riley cocks her head at the comment.

“You think so?” Farkle’s mouth twists to the side with uncertainty, but he continues, nodding his head.

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, from what I’ve gathered, love can be about different things. Those different things you find in the people around you that make you want to stay near them, that pull you towards them like metal towards a magnet. Sometimes you look into someone’s eyes and you can see the universe, and your body reacts in numerous ways—your pulse quickens, your heart bounds within your chest, your hands go clammy. This person stuns you just by existing, and you couldn’t possibly think about being anywhere else in the world but right beside them.”

Staring into his eyes, the room around her fades. Riley’s not sure if it’s the buzz from the booze finally setting in or what, but her head feels dizzy. Her mouth goes dry, and she can only focus on him and only him.

“Whoa mama, that’s one heck of a way to look at it,” she says, her free hand gripping onto the velvet fabric of the couch. Farkle guides her hand away from the edge of the cushion gently, however, tossing it between his own for a moment before squeezing it reassuringly.

“You’ll find your definition of love, Riley. I know you will. You just have to give it time—be yourself for a bit; you just got out of a relationship. You’ll know your spark when it comes to you. It tends to sneak up on you when you least expect it.”

The warmth of his hand soothes her, his proximity easing her from her anxious state. His eyes never leave her, and when her throat begins to close in on her, she finally understands something for once in her teenage life.

She doesn’t need time to herself before finding her spark. Her spark was always right in front of her, waiting for her to bring the kindling to start a blazing fire all of their own. Riley’s spent so much time pent up on Lucas Friar and his southern, gentlemanly charm that she was blinded to the rest of her world.

It was never Lucas Friar. It was always _Farkle Minkus_.

She’s in love with Farkle Minkus, and the revelation simultaneously thrills her and frightens her all the same.

“Farkle—” she begins, but she’s soon cut off by Smackle walking back into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt you two, but Farkle, there’s an important video being livestreamed right now online of a rover on Mars. I assumed you might be interested in watching that?” Farkle’s eyes light up brighter than a Christmas tree, and he rises to his feet almost immediately.

“Ha! That’s incredible!” he exclaims, grinning ear to ear. Riley can’t help but smile with him, too.

“Shall we?” Smackle asks him, holding out her arm. Farkle’s eyes flash between Riley and Isadora, indecision plain on his face.

“Go for it, Farkle. You’ve gotta watch livestreamed footage of a rover on Mars,” Riley tells him, giving him the go ahead. He nods, waving quickly before linking arms with Smackle, the two of them disappearing out of the front door.

Riley sips at her drink, once again alone on the couch with her thoughts, her heart aching in an entirely different way than when she arrived at the party in the first place.

 

//

 

Science is increasingly becoming Riley’s _least_ favorite subject, because she can’t seem to avoid the things that give her anxiety, and one of the number one things that is making her anxious happens to be in that class. And then her teacher announces a partner project, and she gets the short end of the stick.

They’re partners, of course they’re partners. Riley can’t escape his presence for a day in her life.

“You have the charts and spreadsheets made, right?” Farkle asks her while setting up his telescope in the middle of the grassy part of the park. Although she’s otherwise distracted by her own thoughts, she still manages to nod in response.

“Yeah, right here,” she tells him, reaching into the army-issue tote bag hanging from her shoulder. She retrieves the array of papers and passes them to him, their skin meeting briefly during the exchange. Warmth from contact flares up her hands and arm, goose pimples rising in its wake.

Riley wonders to herself if he ever feels the same thing.

“So if we’re lucky, we might be able to see somewhat of a view of Pluto tonight. Nothing too special, but it’s exciting, right, Riley?” he smirks, watching her face for her reaction. Her face softens, eyes crinkling when she smiles in response.

“Of course it’s exciting, Farkle. It’s Pluto; you know I love Pluto.”

Farkle waves her over to stand next to him by the telescope, and she obliges, appearing by his side at once. As he continues to fix it, Riley observes the subtle way in which the light from the moon above allows her to see the freckles delicately painted upon his cheeks. She’d like to trace the pattern, she thinks, count each one and admire how she could learn just as much astronomy from his skin as the sky above them, but then she silently puts that thought to rest. Her job isn’t to ogle Farkle, it’s to get this project done and over with so she can continue to pretend that her feelings for him are nonexistent.

“Alright!” Farkle exclaims suddenly, breaking her from her reverie.

“What is it?” Riley asks.

“Pluto is up there, for sure. Wanna see?” She chuckles and nods her head, scooting in closer to look through the telescope. He gives her space to crouch down and look, and she leans in to press her eye to the glass.

“It’s just a speck,” she announces flatly, disappointed. She glances back over at Farkle who offers her his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“I know, but I figured you’d like to see that speck. If you look closely, you can see another tiny spec next to it. That’s one of Pluto’s moons, Charon.” Riley peers back in through the telescope, looking back at her tiny spec of a planet, and after careful speculation she sees the just-as-tiny moon floating beside it. Even though both are as small as can be, she can’t help but feel that excitement she had before bubble back up inside her like a third grader’s papier-mâché volcano project.

“It’s such an amazing little speck,” she croons in awe, still watching Pluto even though it’ll remain a speck in the sky no matter how long she looks at it. A hand rests on her shoulder, Farkle’s hand, his fingertips brushing against the nape of her neck.

“Wanna catalogue it? I’m sure our teacher would be more than happy to see us add a little extra into our project.” Riley removes herself from the telescope, finding herself only an inch away from Farkle’s face. Even in the dark he’s bright as ever, the sea-blue hue of his eyes deepening and pulling her in, tempting to drown her.

“Uhm,” she answers, swallowing hard. “Sure.”

Although her lips tell him that she’s going to move, her body makes no motion to any time soon. Riley curses silently in her mind, trying to will her rooted feet to shift away, to put space between them before it’s too late, but then she recognizes Farkle’s paralyzed in his spot, as well. The grin he once held has since washed away, instead a serious expression on his face, an unreadable one. His hand still lingers on her neck, not daring to budge one bit.

“Riley,” he says her name, barely above a whisper, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.

“Yes?” she asks, waiting patiently for him to make the next move.

“I don’t . . . what is this? What are we doing?” This is it, Riley realizes. This is her time to tell him how she feels, and if she doesn’t go for it now, she may never have the chance again.

“I love you, Farkle,” she breathes, feeling the weight of her secret being lifted off her shoulders.

“And I love you, too, Riley,” he whispers back. Riley shakes her head.

“No, not just like that, Farkle. I’m _in_ love with you. I want to be with you.” She pauses for a moment, considering something before telling him, “I want to kiss you.” His fingers clench against her neck as she inches towards him, her lips hovering next to his. Right as she tries to close the gap between them, she feels his hand push her into place, stopping her.

“I can’t, Riley,” he whispers, his eyes drifting to the side, failing to meet hers. “Not that I haven’t thought about this before, but I’m with Smackle now, and I really like her. I didn’t start dating her because you had moved on and I needed a replacement. I’m dating her because I truly like her, and that’s not gonna change anytime soon.”

“That’s . . . that’s okay, Farkle. I get it. I lost my chance, and you’ve moved on.” Riley sighs, but she can’t help the tear that falls from her face. Farkle watches her with pain in his eyes, his thumb reaching up to wipe away her tear. She shies away from his touch, the space between them growing into a canyon of distance.

“Don’t cry, Riley. I don’t want to make you cry; don’t cry over something stupid like me,” he says, his voice wavering.

“No, don’t worry. It’s completely fine, Farkle. I’m just really happy for you, that’s all. You’ve got such a wonderful person, and she really does love every bit of you. I’m sorry I tried to take that away from you. But that’s okay, because we’re friends, and friends can get through this kind of thing. You take it easy, alright, Farkle?” Her chest heaves up and down sporadically from the wave of sobs she’s trying desperately to suppress, her legs trembling as she backs away from him. His eyes never leave hers the entire time she falls apart, and she hates him for it.

Because even when he won’t accept her love, he’s still manages to be a kind and supportive friend, and Riley can’t take it.

“Riley, _please_ ,” he begs her, but she shakes her head.

“No, Farkle. Stop it. Just let me go, okay? I’ll be fine. Just let me _go_ ,” she pleads back. He makes no motion to stop her from running, and when her feet hit the pavement once again, the only sounds that she hears are of the bustling city around her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes her heart ache that she’s known him for all these years and never knew just how much he really meant to her until it was too late. And for some stupid reason, she can’t change her mind about her feelings now that she’s made that discovery. She can’t shut off the fact that she’s not just stunned by the existence of Farkle Minkus, but enraptured. He’s not just a spark in her eyes, but a blazing fire, igniting wonderfully and eternally.
> 
> She hopes Smackle can realize that what she’s got is unlike any other.

Riley’s gotten pretty decent at stepping back.

It’s easy; it should be second nature to her by now. But love is never an easy thing, and neither is watching the person you love, love someone else.

It sucks. It really does.

What sucks even worse is that she and Farkle can’t talk to each other. Well, they _can_ , but their decision _not to_ is mutual, only made worse by Farkle casting worried glances in her direction every so often. Is he afraid that she’s that fragile, that she’ll fall apart because of repeated rejection?

He certainly wouldn’t be wrong, and that notion infuriates her. When in life has Farkle been anything but right? She’s a freaking porcelain teapot, ready to crack and crumble under the vast pressure of loneliness and rejection.

Screw boys. They shouldn’t have this kind of power over her.

Except Farkle’s rejection hurts the most, because she does care for him deeply, deeper than the Mariana’s Trench, even. He may be her spark, but unfortunately for her, someone else is his. Isadora Smackle captivated Farkle’s heart through science, enduring resilience, and matching wit. Riley’s smart, but she can’t compete with what Smackle has to offer him.

It makes her heart ache that she’s known him for all these years and never knew just how much he really meant to her until it was too late. And for some stupid reason, she can’t change her mind about her feelings now that she’s made that discovery. She can’t shut off the fact that she’s not just stunned by the existence of Farkle Minkus, but _enraptured_. He’s not just a spark in her eyes, but a blazing fire, igniting wonderfully and eternally.

She hopes Smackle can realize that what she’s got is unlike any other.

She trusts that she does.

 

//

 

Riley always leaves her bay window unlocked.

It’s a sacred thing to her, the bay window, and everyone who knows it remains unfastened also knows that they have an open invitation.

She honestly doesn’t expect _him_ to clamber through her window, however, not after how they last left things. In all honesty, she expects Maya more than anything to demand to know what’s going on with her recent moodiness, but she also respects that Maya’s working hard on an art project and hasn’t had much time for anything other than remembering to work, sleep, drink, and eat.

“Riley,” Farkle says softly after he’s climbed inside, taking residence upon her windowsill bench while she remains planted firmly on her bed across the room from him. The distance between them is still overwhelming.

“Farkle,” she echoes back in the same tone, a sigh lingering behind. “What brings you to my window? It’s late.” He knows it’s late, but he has no clue as to what she’s referring to—the time, or the state of how things are. Riley’s not sure she knows, either.

“I have to know,” he begins, his legs bouncing around in typical Farkle fashion, “Why did you tell me those things you did? Why now, of all times?”

“What, do you think I have some kind of timer set for my feelings?” she snaps at him, taking pride (but feeling mostly guilty after) in his flinch-response. “I’m not a robot, Farkle. I’m just a teenage girl, and I feel what I feel. End of story.” Although her eyes remained fixated on the soft, sky blue hue of her walls, she can still sense the heavy weight of his gaze upon her.

“I’m not saying you’re a robot, Riley. I’m just . . . I’m just confused.” Her concentration on the wall breaks, and she turns to face him.

Oh, _he’s_ the one who’s confused?

“What do you have to be confused about, Farkle? It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” He sighs audibly.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Farkle whines, utter befuddlement noticeable in his intonation. “It’s just, ever since that night . . . I thought I had it figured all out, okay? I had all these puzzle pieces that fit into my jigsaw-life all perfectly, and everything was all good. Then one day I took a look under the magnifying glass to see that I had fit a piece into the wrong spot—it looked like it fit, I _tried_ to make it fit, but it just wasn’t the right spot. Now I have no clue where to put it.”

“Maybe it belongs to a different puzzle,” Riley remarks. Farkle shakes his head.  

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what?” she demands. Why is he being all cagey like this?

“I don’t know, Riley. I really don’t know.” She huffs, pressing her arms against her chest in indignation. Riley doesn’t have time for his resignation he’s so hell-bent on communicating to her, but he elaborates further by asking her a question. “How can you know you love me?”

Riley’s jaw drops. Now he wants her to explain her love for him, to shed light on her side of what love is.

“I just _know_ Farkle. I just know that you’re my friend and I love you that way, and that I also love you in a “I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-beside-you” kind of way.”

“And?” He’s annoying her, but she knows it’s truly not on purpose. Farkle really wants to understand how exactly she loves him.

“Look, it’s all head and heart, mind and body and soul. My heart speaks, and my head listens. I look at you and I don’t see a spark; I see a blazing fire, vivid and radiating, and I’m drawn towards you like a moth to a flame. You told me to look for my spark, Farkle, and I found it. It’s just that my spark belongs to someone else.” He doesn’t say anything once she’s finished, just remains quiet, as if he needs time to register her words. So she continues, “Is that what you wanted to know, Farkle? Because it’s too late to take it back now.”

“I think I’m . . . satisfied with your answer,” he responds a moment later, and Riley suppresses the urge to give him a swift punch to the throat. She doesn’t need him to validate her stupid, unrequited feelings, and he definitely doesn’t need to reply to them like an automated phone service.

“I’m glad you’re satisfied,” Riley mumbles sarcastically. “So are we done with this transaction or what?”

“How can you be sure that your feelings for me were formed because you genuinely love me? How do you know it’s not because you were feeling—” Farkle begins begins, but Riley cuts him off before he’s able to finish.

“Because I was what, _lonely_? Broken? _Rejected?_ Go on, Farkle. Finish that statement and see how this ends, because I can guarantee you it won’t be a good ending.” Her fists clench at her sides, her blood boiling. She doesn’t need this sort of crap from anyone, _especially_ not him, and she won’t take it if he continues. Riley may be _feeling_ like a doormat lately, but she’s certainly not going to let herself act like one.

“I—” Farkle attempts conversation, but shuts his mouth soon after, contemplating his next move, particularly one that won’t get him killed in the process. “I should probably go, shouldn’t I,” he says, more as a statement than a question. Riley nods her head.

“I think that’d be best, really,” she tells him, her voice lowering. “And . . . it’d probably be best if we spent some time apart.” Farkle’s brow furrows.

“Riley?”

“You’re my best friend, Farkle, you really are, but we just can’t make it through this. Not unless we spend some time apart, give ourselves time to let this pass. Just give me time to get over you, okay?” He wants to fight it; she can see it in his eyes.

But he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he agrees, crestfallen. “Okay. Time apart, gotcha. This is totally cool.” Farkle rises from the bench to cross over to the open window, preparing to climb out. His fingers grip the wooden frame, ready to pull himself through the opening, but then he spares one more glance at Riley.

“Goodnight,” he tells her coolly. She thins her lips, nodding.

“Goodnight, Farkle Minkus. Don’t be a stranger.” He turns from her, gaze trained out the window as he says,

“Never.”

 

//

 

The chilling of the winter months does nothing to raise her mood, not even when the first batch of snowflakes flutter delicately from the sky. Riley orders a pumpkin spice latte every day to try and cheer herself up, but with no avail.

It never is a good thing to keep things to yourself, especially to bottle them all up inside. Once Maya’s finished with her latest masterpiece, she pays more attention to Riley again, noticing almost _immediately_ that something is up. Things are not all well in Rileytown, and Maya tells her she better smile soon or the mayor is gonna have to start whooping some butts to get answers.

Rileytown has been covered in rainstorms, and she doesn’t think they’ll go away anytime soon. Riley wants to keep suppressing her feeling for the benefit of not wanting to distract Maya and to keep the balance of the earth in check, but Maya is her best friend and deserves to know the truth.

“Oh, _sweetie_ ,” Maya coos, leaning her head into the crook of Riley’s neck, “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I’ve left you suffering alone through all of this, too.”

“Maya, you don’t need to stop your life for me. I’m fine,” Riley insists, but Maya shakes her head.

“Riley, as long as we’ve been best friends, you should know that I’m here for you whenever you need it. It’s not me stopping my life, it’s me being your best friend to you. I want to be there for you when you’re struggling.” Maya pulls her into a tight embrace then, and Riley can’t help but cry into her shoulder, the weight of all her burdens breaking her like a crack in a dam.

“Peaches, why are boys so awful?” she sobs into Maya’s shoulder.

“Because they’re emotionally stunted, honey,” Maya answers back, rubbing Riley’s back to console her. “And little shits,” she adds, causing Riley to pull away from her embrace, managing a half-sob, half-laugh.

“ _Maya!_ ” Riley exclaims, but Maya only shrugs her shoulders.

“We’re in high school, Riley. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

Maya always did know the best ways to cheer her up.

 

//

 

The next person to climb in through her window is completely and totally unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. He doesn’t come at odd hours of the night and knocks on the window gently before entering to announce his presence.

She still has a container full of half-pairs of his shoes sitting next to her bed, even after all this time.

“Riley, is it alright if I come in? I don’t want to bother you or anything,” he calls to her from her fire escape. Riley holds in a breath for a minute before revealing her answer.

“Of course, Lucas. Come on in,” she says, gesturing for him to crawl inside. Lucas bows his head once before sliding inside, showcasing his grace from the many times he’s done so. He takes a seat near her on her windowsill bench, and Riley can’t help but admire the cerulean blue of his eyes that she used to adore so much.

“So I came to talk about things,” Lucas tells her. Riley raises a brow.

“Things? What kinds of things?”

“We have unfinished business, you and I. I don’t think we ended on a good note, and I’d like to officially do that. I know it’s been a little over a month since we broke things off, but I would appreciate it if you let me try to settle things.” Oh Lucas, ever the gentlemen. Why can’t she love him instead, damnit!

“Well, I’d be willing to hear anything you have to say. I think now is an appropriate time to do that.” Lucas’ mouth quirks into a small grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“First off, I’d like to say that I’m sorry for how things happened. I never wanted it to end that way, but we were just—”

“Too similar?” Riley offers. He nods his head.

“Yeah. I mean, I really do love you, Riley. You’re one of the first people I met in New York, and you took a chance on me and stuck with me even after learning my truths. But we never loved each other in the way that we should have as a couple, and for that, I am awfully sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Lucas. It wasn’t your fault,” Riley tells him.

“No, I _do_ need to apologize. You deserve to be loved and adored, and I never gave you that. I hope you know you’re one of a kind, Riley Matthews. Anyone who treats you otherwise is a pile of dirt in my eyes.” She laughs at that, actually laughs, glad for Lucas’s presence. She needed him as a friend again, missed it sorely.

“You’re a good one, Lucas. I hope whoever you find next loves you more than anything in the world.” His grin turns into a full-fledged smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Same goes to you, Riley,” he says, his face dropping back to a neutral position after. “Now the next thing I want to address is . . . you have a whole bucket of my shoes I’d like back. I appreciate your dad’s need for a trophy collection, but I’m running thin on footwear.”

“Of course,” Riley rolls her eyes, chuckling as she rises from her bed to push the bucket of lefties towards him ( _“The left foot,”_ Lucas would always say, _“Why is it always the left foot?!”_ ) He takes the bucket and places it next to him on the bench, draping an arm around it for safety purposes.  

“Alright, I have one more thing to say, but I want you to hear me out before you make a decision,” Lucas tells her, holding a hand up to keep her from leaving. Riley watches him cautiously, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Okaaaay,” she complies, still wary. “What is it?”

“Farkle wants to meet you at the park. He sent me to you because he didn’t want to violate your agreement to take some time apart, but he was insistent that you go see him. He also said that it’s your decision in the end, though, and if you don’t want to go then he’ll understand.”

 _Oh_.

“Did he say anything else?” Lucas shakes his head.

“No, that was about it. But he did mention that he’d be there all night, and if you weren’t there by midnight then he’d take that as your answer.” Riley stares at Lucas, her mind buzzing with thought.

She could not visit him. Riley could easily say no, let herself have more time to herself to move on from this mess.

Or she could go to him. She could see what he has to say, hear him out and give him the benefit of the doubt.

A real predicament, indeed. She’s between the devil and the deep blue sea on this one.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” she tells him after careful consideration. “Now you go take those shoes back to their home where their partners are. I’m sure they’ve been missed dearly.” Lucas laughs, smiling as he picks up the bucket and heads back to his exit.

“See you later?” he asks as he reaches the ajar glass.

“See you later,” she confirms, watching him as he departs, his figure disappearing from sight once he heads down the fire escape.

Riley’s left alone to her thoughts once again, contemplating what choice she’ll make.

 

To go, or not to go? That is the question.

 

//

 

Riley’s become a real sucker for those azure eyes, for sure. Maybe that’s what willed her to the park in the first place, all bundled up in a scarf and a thick pea coat to shield her from the ardent chill around her. Whatever the case, she’s in the park, freezing her butt off for a boy she’s trying desperately not to love.

What’s not to enjoy about this situation?

“Farkle,” she calls out to him when she approaches the bench he’s taken up residence at, gaining his attention immediately. He exhales right away when he catches sight of her, as if he were half-expecting her not to show up at all. She doesn’t blame him for that speculation one bit—she almost _didn’t_. But she did come, and she’s hoping to gain some sort of closure and be able to be friends with him again. She misses the hell out of him, for sure.

Damn her teenage heart, damn it all to hell! Why did it have to go and make a mess of things?

“Riley, you made it,” he says, still astonished by her presence. Riley takes careful notice of his red cheeks, flushed from the cold, and removes her scarf at once, wrapping it around his neck.

“Of course I made it. It’s a good thing I did, too, otherwise you’d be frostbitten by the end of the night. Do you not know how cold New York gets? I hope you do, since you’ve lived here long enough.” Farkle doesn’t laugh at that, doesn’t even _chuckle_ in the slightest bit, and Riley seriously considers that he’s already started to get hypothermia. Instead, she chalks it up to him being serious Farkle, trying to keep his focus on one thing and one thing only.

“Uh, thanks,” he tells her, playing with the scarf for a moment before returning his attention to her. “I wanted to talk to you about some things.”

“So I’ve been told. What ya got for me, Farkley?”

“You wanna sit? We might be out here for a bit.” Farkle taps the empty spot next to him, waiting patiently for Riley to sit down instead of an actual answer. She does so, but leaves a couple inches of space inbetween, acknowledging that things are still awkward between them.

“What do you want to talk about, Farkle? I’m here,” Riley lets him know, drumming her fingers on the faded wood of the bench in anticipation.

“Remember how I was talking about that puzzle piece a bit ago, and I said that I didn’t know where exactly it fit?” he asks her. She nods her head.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I think I know where it goes. It’s kind of hard for me to want to fit it in so soon, but I’m afraid if I don’t try to put it into place soon, I might lose it forever.” Riley watches as his feet kick at the ground, a stray rock rolling from the wake. Farkle sighs, licking at his lips that have grown chapped from the dry, winter air before turning to face her, eyes wide with uncertainty like a lost child in a grocery store.

“Smackle and I broke up,” he blurts aloud, hands gripping the edge of the wooden bench.

“I’m sorry, Farkle,” Riley tells him genuinely, her heart dropping with hurt for him. He shrugs in response.

“It’s alright, I suppose. I sort of saw it coming, but I didn’t really want the inevitable to happen until it did. She told me I didn’t love her like I should, and I couldn’t help but agree.”

“I see,” Riley remarks. “Then what?”

“Smackle told me the feeling was mutual. She said she appreciated our time together, but decided that, in the end, it was probably best that we be kept apart. Nemesis was always a better title shared between the two of us,” he says with a small chuckle. “But now I’m here, sitting in a park in climate more than ready to turn me into a popsicle, hoping that I’m not too late.”

“Too late for what?” Riley presses. She wants to hear what he has to say, _needs_ to hear it.

“I hope it’s not too late for me to try to fit that puzzle piece where it’s belonged for a long while now. I hope it’s not too late for me to try to find my spark,” he says, staring her dead in the eyes while he says it. His eyes aren’t full of sadness like she expects; instead they’re filled with hope and want, something that she’s more than familiar with when she looks at him.

“I don’t think it’s too late for you to go for what you want. You never know until you try. And this puzzle piece would like to try something,” Riley tells him, holding out her hand. “Want to come with me?”

“Where?” Farkle asks, reaching to intertwine his fingers with hers. Together they rise from the bench, considering each other with eagerness plain upon their faces.

“To a warm house with a warm fire, where we can just sit together in silence and make up for lost time,” she answers, squeezing his hand for reassurance. He squeezes back, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a hint of smile.

“I think I’d like that more than anything in the world.” Riley grins, her heart soaring within her chest, feeling content for the first time in a long while.

“I missed you, Farkle,” she whispers into his ear when they begin to take off down the sidewalk, her head resting against the empty space of his neck. She won’t ever say it aloud, not to him or even Maya, but she always has fit seamlessly there, like she was made for that gap. Farkle leans his cheek up against her, pressing his lips at the crease inbetween her brows.

“I love you, too, Riley,” he whispers back, and although everything is still jumbled and muddled, Riley thinks that it just might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! They got together, and even though things are still rocky, all will be well :) Enough of that dumb angst, though. The next thing I post will definitely be more lighthearted, for sure. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter (mostly repeats, honestly, because I've been listening to the same songs the past couple of days):  
> -Comeback Story by Kings of Leon  
> -Ribs by Lorde  
> -Sadness Is a Blessing by Lykke Li  
> -Downtown by Majical Cloudz  
> -The Silence by Bastille  
> -Lost Land by Alela Diane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello angst!!! 
> 
> This will have a happy ending I'm pretty sure. I have plans for a resolve, of course, but I just finished this part and wanted to get it out there. I'm just kinda writing as I go along, so I'm not sure when I'll complete the second part, but it's on its way, no worries. So here's another fic (shocker, right??? haha) because I've got about a zillion ideas (literally an entire word document dedicated to them) so the plan is just to keep writing until they stop coming.
> 
> I had a bunch of songs that I listened/am currently listening to for this fic, but the main one (aka where I got the title of the fic, except I changed a word in the line because it fit better in my mind) is "No Cars Go" by Arcade Fire.
> 
> Here's the main list of songs I listened to:  
> -No Cars Go by Arcade Fire  
> -The Silence by Bastille  
> -Sadness Is A Blessing by Lykke Li  
> -Comeback Story by Kings of Leon


End file.
